


Poorly Wired Circuits

by Rheaird_of_Life



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, so naturally the first one is the silliest, the first one is from villanelle's pov, the other four are eve's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheaird_of_Life/pseuds/Rheaird_of_Life
Summary: Five scenarios of how the final scene could've gone differently.Features: Oksana's magical tits, A long list of ex-lovers, Cristina Yang, Ice cream in bed, and Mrs. Dress Up.Updated since S2. Beware.





	1. Eve Vs The Bath

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to start with the most lighthearted one since I feel like it'd be the most appreciated right now. So...hold on to your tits!

“What are you going to do with that?” she asks conversationally.

“I'm gonna kill you,” responds Eve predictably.

It is true that the gun is loaded and the safety is actually off, and she _could_ conceivably do it, but Oksana is willing to bet her life that she won't. Eve's hands are shaking too much and her aim is unsteady. Her entire demeanor is unsteady. It is not the attitude of a woman about to take someone's life for the first time in cold blood. Even if she _does_ fire, it will likely miss vital organs.

Oksana came home for a reason and she intends to follow through, home invaders notwithstanding. So without further ado she begins to strip, right there in front of Eve. She starts with her pants, popping the button and unzipping.

“What are you doing?!” demands Eve, staring at her in disbelief.

“Taking my clothes off,” she answers reasonably, pulling them down her legs. It's a bit difficult to get them fully off with her shoes in the way, but she manages eventually. She steps out of them to face Eve again and is gratified to see her staring down there.

Eve's gaze shifts back up. She shakes the gun a bit. “I can see that! _Why_ are you taking them off?!”

She's already sounding a little hysterical. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“I cannot take a bath with clothes on, Eve,” she smirks. “Perhaps you enjoy such things. I do not.”

Oksana takes her shirt off next, while Eve continues to watch, stupefied. Once that leaves her head and is tossed to the ground, she takes a moment to appreciate Eve's appreciation of her body. Her eyes are practically glued to her tits.

She places her hands on her hips, standing there in nothing more than her shoes, socks, underwear and bra. Oksana is a little disappointed it's such plain, ugly prison underwear, but she knows she looks stunning regardless. And judging by Eve's inability to look away, she agrees with this assessment.

She goes to undo her bra, even manages to unlatch it, and then, “Stop!” orders Eve, readjusting the gun yet again to chest height. Straight at her tits. Eve seems to be obsessed with them already, and she hasn't even seen them fully yet.

Oksana obeys, for the moment, her hand the only thing keeping the thin bit of fabric in place.

“Are you really going to shoot an unarmed, half naked woman in her own home, Eve?” she says, doing her best to keep a serious face. It is always so difficult, but the practice is good every once in awhile. Especially during these unusual predicaments she often finds herself in.

“Yes!”

“Really?”

“I can do it!”

“No, you can't.”

“No, I can't,” agrees Eve after a lengthy pause. Then she slowly begins to lower the gun.

Oksana mentally fist bumps herself for having read the situation correctly. She never doubted herself, but it was nice to have confirmation that she was still as sharp as ever, even as battered and bruised and tired as she was.

“You can keep the gun if it makes you feel better,” she says, just as she did in the kitchen with the knife.

She starts to move towards Eve now, who quickly backs up out of the bedroom, in order to give her a wide berth, as if she is afraid to touch even a single part of Oksana's exposed flesh. Once she is past her, she shrugs out of her bra, letting it fall to the ground and the bits of broken glass everywhere. She crunches through the rest of this nasty mess and makes her way to the bathroom. The floor in here at least is clean and free of Eve's small minded destruction. Oksana takes off her shoes and socks then, and leaves them in the entry way. She enjoys the cold feel of the tile against her feet as she pads over to the tub. Except for the plane ride back from Russia, she's been on them for practically two days straight.

She runs the water for a bit until it's just the right temperature and then plugs the hole so it can fill, adding a generous amount of Eau de Campagne, an expensive bath oil that smells of jasmine, plums, green tomato leaves and various other natural things.

As she waits for it to fill up more she wonders what Eve is doing. Oksana knows she hasn't left yet. Is she just standing there, staring towards the bathroom? Or is she pacing around, trying to figure out her next move? Or has she given up completely and thrown herself onto the sofa?

Oksana smirks to herself as she sticks her shoes back on and wanders over to the kitchen. Eve freezes in place, apparently having been pacing, and faces her like a deer caught in headlights. Oksana has run into one or two of the creatures herself over the years. It was very gratifying, but not nearly as gratifying as witnessing the unfolding scene before her.

Eve's eyes are darting every which way, doing her utmost not to land on her tits. She's failing miserably though, eyes finding them more times than not. It seems to Oksana that her head is practically spinning. It's reminding her of that hilarious movie, _The Exorcist_ , and the comparison is taking everything inside of her not to burst out laughing in Eve's face.

Nonchalantly, she moves past her and opens up the fridge. Eve has smashed most of her champagne bottles, but not all. Oksana makes a show of bending over slowly to retrieve the last remaining one on the bottom shelf. Still in that hunched over position, she turns to face Eve, who's eyes have just snapped away from her ass.

“Would you care for a drink, Eve? You look a little thirsty.”

Apparently incapable of words, Eve just shakes her head vigorously. Oksana faces the fridge again, smirking, and retrieves the bottle. She stands upright, stoic faced again, and looks back to Eve. “Suit yourself. But if I drink this entire bottle on an empty stomach while in the bath, I may require _supervision_.”

It wasn't true of course, she had eaten pretty recently on the plane, and the cafe, and the fast food place. It was true, however, that she wasn't much of a drinker. Her father had seen to that. The occasional glass of champagne shared with Konstantin after a job well done was about the most she ever drank. And he was dead now, so she would need a new drinking buddy if she wanted to stop herself from becoming intoxicated tonight, a sensation she didn't much care for.

Eve's eyes go wide. “Pour me a drink!” she almost yells.

This time Oksana can't help it. She snorts a little but quickly covers it up with a dignified cough. Oksana goes to the cupboards and pulls out two tall glasses. These she holds out to Eve, who awkwardly receives them with her one free hand. The other is still tightly gripping the gun.

Oksana unwraps the foil from the champagne bottle and then takes it into both hands in order to pop it open. This she does with aplomb, having a well practiced hand. The cork bounces off the ceiling and plops slap dab in the middle of the rest of the sticky, prickly mess. She eyes it with disdain for the first time, wondering how long it will take to clean. If she were feeling mean spirited right now she would make Eve do it. But she's as far from that mood as possible. In fact, she's having the most fun she's had in ages. Messing with Eve is like crack to her.

She turns back to Eve, gesturing to the glasses, and Eve hands one back over, all the while looking over her shoulder. Oksana pours a glass, then another, then sets the bottle aside. She holds out her glass, waits for Eve to follow suit and then says, “To Konstantin.”

It was somewhat surreal that she was toasting the demise of her mentor, the one she had looked up to far more than her own deadbeat father. But business was business. Anyone who got in the way of that had to go. Konstantin knew this and Konstantin paid the price.

Eve doesn't respond so she clinks their glasses together and then takes a few small sips.

She eyes Eve for a moment waiting for her to also drink before saying, “Did I ever tell you about the time I killed a man with my tits?”

As expected, Eve spews everywhere. Oksana steps out of the way just in time.

“You _what_?!” exclaims Eve, nearly beside herself again. She looks like she's about to pass out from the strain of keeping her eyes on her face.

“Killed a man with my tits,” she reiterated, this time showcasing them with her available hand, like they were a prize on _Le Juste Prix_. A stupid game show, but fun to try her hand at sometimes when she was bored, which was often.

Eve's eyes lock on to her chest like she is trying to decipher a coded message. “How is that even _possible_?!”

“Allow me to demonstrate,” says Oksana, putting her cup aside and clasping her wrists behind her back. She bends her knees too for good measure. “Now if you stand right in front of me-”

She has no clue what her next move actually is, but it doesn't matter because Eve is waving her arms around wildly now, like she is a chicken attempting to take flight.

“No! No! No! I believe you! I don't need to see!”

Oksana bites her lip, silently laughing, releases her wrists, and straightens. She takes the cup back in hand and casually sips at it again.

Eve stares at her for a long moment and then drains the rest of the glass in one go.

“Another?” she queries to which Eve nods wearily. This time she sinks into the sofa, the gun deposited on the table.

“Seen any good movies lately?” she says, attempting to keep this charade up for as long as possible.

Eve looks at her like she's an alien from another far, far away planet.

“No. I've been too busy chasing after you.”

“You've finally caught up.”

“Yes.”

“Well done.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you done with that now?” she says, cocking her head towards the gun.

“Haven't decided yet,” says Eve grumpily. It was adorable.

“Well, if you do decide to use it, would you let me know so that I can get dressed first?” She gestures to her tits again. “I'd rather not have to fight you to the death with these. I mean, I can definitely take you out with them, but it won't be pleasant for either of us.”

“Your bath must be ready by _now_ ,” Eve practically whines, eyes dancing around once more.

Oksana knew she was likely right. And Eve deserved a moment of reprieve. She had been a very good sport so far, had played her part perfectly. Oksana purposely leaves her half full glass of champagne beside the bottle and heads back to the bathroom. Sure enough the water is nearly to the top, far more than she would normally use, so she quickly turns it off, and even decides to drain it a little.

It smells wonderful in here and the bath water is incredibly enticing. It feels like a century since the last one. She can't wait to sink into its warm depths and stay there until she is all pruney and gross looking like Madame Tattevin. But she isn't quite finished with Eve yet, so she heads back out into the living room. Eve can't quite believe her eyes, like she's a sexy ghost come back to torment here.

“How is it _still_ not done?” she laments.

“Oh, it is ready,” she informs her, scooping up her glass. “I just forgot this.”

Eve gives her a familiar, dubious look. It seems as though the naked effect is starting to dissipate now and Eve's senses are returning to normal. Such a shame.

Oksana turns to leave, walks a few paces, and then glances over her shoulder to catch Eve staring at her ass again. Hurriedly, she diverts her gaze.

“I don't mind if you look,” she says, with a wink, to which Eve flushes even more than she has thus far. “It's only natural. I have a stunning body after all.”

She doesn't expect a response, so she is pleasantly surprised when Eve says, “Yes, you do.”

Oksana decides to push her luck. Might as well. She might never get the opportunity again.

“It's a big tub,” she says. “Plenty of room for two.”

Eve seems to short circuit once more, frozen in place. “That's...” croaks Eve, coming back to life, “that's not gonna happen, Oksana.” She gulps. “Not now. Not ever.”

Oksana shrugs, slightly hurt by the surety in her voice. But mostly amused. Her looks belie her words. Oksana knows that one of these days Eve will realize that they are meant for one another. And she is willing to wait as long as it takes. Because Eve is worth it.

So she sinks into the heavenly elixir all by her lonesome and fantasizes about that fateful day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally write in the present tense but I wanted to try something a little different. Might not have pulled it off great though as my brain is basically hardwired to use the past tense.
> 
> I must say it's an utter joy to write Villanelle. She's the most fun I've had in awhile lol.
> 
> Anyway, these scenarios are all more or less finished. I'll post them periodically, probably every few days. It's possible I might write more, but for now I need a break cuz, God, I'm tired.


	2. Eve Vs The Ex-Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's not nearly as silly but hopefully still good.

Oksana turns on her side to face her. "Would you stay for a bit?"

The question is slightly hesitant, slightly hopeful.

Eve knows this is the right moment to spring her trap. She knows Villanelle is at her most vulnerable, her most unaware. But when she turns to look at her, face sincere and yearning, Eve finds she no longer wishes to kill her. The murderous impulse is quickly sinking back within herself. Not in some deep, dark cavern, never to see the light of day again, but rather tucked into the back of her underwear drawer. Eve doesn't question why her mind chooses this analogy. She's given up trying to understand herself. At least for the time being.

She also finds she doesn't want to give Villanelle what she wants, even though a small part of her is screaming at her to simply let it happen. She knows it's inevitable, this pull between them is too strong. For good or bad, they are linked together, and one day, she will finally succumb into Oksana's arms. Just as Anna did. But today is not that day.

Which means there is no reason for her to be here anymore.

"I don't think that's a good idea," says Eve.

And she means this with all her heart. If she stays, she'll probably try to kill her again. Villanelle has too smart of a mouth. She is bound to say something that will set Eve off.

Oksana's face falls promptly. Just the tiniest bit, but it falls. Mostly in the eyes.

She feels a little disappointed in herself. A little pleased.

Oksana observes her for awhile. "We don't have to do anything. We could just sleep." She perks up. "Or we could watch a movie!"

It's somewhat pathetic how she doesn't want her to leave. This neediness seems utterly unbecoming in someone like Villanelle. Except, she's _not_ Villanelle right now. She's just a young woman who is battered and bruised and lonely and who could probably do with a hug. Eve wonders how long it's been since she was last shown such a basic level of human compassion.

It is ridiculous that she is feeling guilty about abandoning Oksana right now, but she is. Villanelle is a killer. She killed her best friend. They aren't friends. They'll never be friends, and still she is feeling torn about this decision. Eve tells herself it's for the best. The knife in her pocket will surely make its way to her hand if she stays.

"I'm sorry, but no."

Oksana doesn't exactly pout, but she is clearly displeased with not getting her way. Eve finds she is enjoying herself more than she probably should be.

"I eat a lot of sausages and ice cream."

"What?" she says, taken aback by the randomness of the statement.

"You wanted to know about me," tries Oksana one last time. "If you stay, I will tell you whatever you want to know."

And fuck her. Eve should've known she would wait to play her trump card. She should've known that even now, she was never really in control. That was the brilliance of Villanelle. And the sorrow of Oksana.

Fine then. Two could play at that game. If Villanelle thinks Eve is going to make this easy for her, with questions about food and shampoo, she is sadly mistaken.

"Why did you kill Sebastian?"

Oksana seems genuinely surprised for a moment and then vaguely delighted. Eve's not sure if it's the question itself or the fact that she's now agreed to stay. Against her better judgment.

"So that _is_ how you found me," smiles Oksana. "I thought it might be."

And damn, she is quick on the uptake.

"Sebastian was my boyfriend."

Eve blinks at that. "You killed him because he was your boyfriend?"

Oksana laughs. "He killed himself." She waggles her finger in front of her face, then bops her on the nose. "Curiousity killed the cat."

She wonders if she is the latest cat in this scenario. If she will keep poking and prodding at Villanelle until she finally can't take it anymore and kills her without a second thought. For the moment she is reassured by the slight pressure of the knife against her side. She knows she doesn't stand a chance against Villanelle in a fair physical fight.

"That seems to happen a lot around you," she says. "Lovers dying."

Oksana purses her lips at that remark. Clearly she has struck a nerve. Good.

"Do you actually care about any of them?" prods Eve. "Or are they just a means to an end?"

Oksana frowns and then rolls onto her back. "We have fun times." She shrugs. "They move on."

And she isn't sure if that's supposed to have a double meaning or not, like Villanelle sees herself as a black widow.

"What about Anna? Was she just a fun time?"

 _Am I_? she wants to ask, but is too cowardly.

This time Oksana's nostrils flare and Eve thinks maybe she is pushing her luck. If there is one weak point in Villanelle's seemingly impervious armour, it is Anna.

Oksana turns over onto her other side, facing the doorway.

It occurs to Eve that now would be an opportune moment to stab her. It would be so easy. One thrust through the back of the neck and she would be instantly killed.

"I think perhaps you were right, Eve. I think perhaps it is time for you to leave."

But now that she's started, Eve finds she can't stop. She's enjoying seeing Villanelle up against the ropes, taking a beating. So Eve ignores the warning bells in her mind and continues to ask unwanted questions.

"I know Anna was special to you, Oksana. I know you still think about her. I know you still trust her. You wouldn't have sent her your passport if you didn't. Did you speak to her again when you went there? What did she say to you?" When there is no response, "Oksana?"

Eventually, Oksana turns back around. Eve is expecting her to be angry. Instead what she sees catches her completely off guard. Oksana is crying. Genuinely crying. None of that bullshit that took place in the kitchen. Eve half reaches out to her but Oksana flinches away.

And shit, Eve suddenly understands what has happened. She hadn't had a chance to really speak with Konstantin's daughter before the ambulance arrived and they carted the two of them off. Grilling the poor girl while her father lay there dying didn't exactly seem like proper etiquette. But she had noticed a bit of blood on Irina's clothes _before_ she had gotten covered in her fathers blood.

"Is Anna dead?" she asks, this time softly. She's never dealt with Oksana in this state before. She would be wise to tread lightly.

Another tear slips down in confirmation.

"But you didn't kill her?"

Oksana shakes her head.

"I'm sorry," she says, meaning it. "That can't have been easy to watch."

Oksana shrugs. "She was weak. In the head. I can't love someone like that." She wipes the tears away and looks to Eve with clear, laser point vision. "You would never blow your own brains out, would you, Eve Polastri?"

Eve blinks a few times. "No. I would never do that."

Oksana nods. "Of course not. You have a strong mind. One of the best minds I have ever come across."

Eve gets far more pleasure out of Oksana saying this than she cares to admit.

Oksana grins, her face animated. "Not as good as mine, but still, pretty good!"

And just like that, she seems to be past her grief. How disturbing the world would be if everyone could just flip a switch like that and go back to normal.

She's not sure why she asks this, other than to cause trouble for herself. She thinks maybe she just needs to hear someone praising her for once. Niko isn't likely to do it anytime soon.

"Is that the only reason that you like me, Oksana? My mind?"

Oksana moves ever so slightly towards her. "Your hair is pretty amazing." She reaches out and touches it.

"What else?"

Her hand trails down her arm, eliciting goosebumps that thankfully are unseen."You have a beautiful body."

"What else?"

"Nice skin. Nice smile. Nice lips." At this Oksana glances down. "I have thought about kissing them many times."

"Would you like to right now?"

Oksana's eyes light up and she moves even closer. "Yes, very much so."

Oksana starts to lean in but Eve puts her index finger to Oksana's lips, keeping eye contact all the while.

"Sorry baby."

Oksana blinks in confusion, then shakes her head slightly, making a noise that is equal parts amused and irritated. "You are such a tease, Eve." She flicks out her tongue, licking her finger.

"And you're a child, Oksana," says Eve, wiping her finger on the bed sheets.

As if to confirm this, Oksana huffs and rolls onto her back, pounding the bed with fists. She cocks her head to the side. "It's your lose. I am an incredible lover." She thrusts her hips up. "I would give you the best _fuck_ of your life!"

 _I don't doubt it_ , thinks Eve. She doesn't fancy becoming yet another casualty of the bedroom though. At least, not today.

"Just ask Madame Tattevin. She knows I am amazing."

Eve wonders if Oksana knows that the old woman is keeping tabs on her for The Twelve.

When she doesn't immediately respond, Oksana changes gears once more. "Is that how you got in here, Eve? Did the old bag let you in?"

Guess that answers that question.

Oksana smiles sweetly. "I will have to kill her now. I think I will push her down the stairs tomorrow."

"You wouldn't," she says, somehow still surprised by the depths of Villanelle's depravity.

Oksana closes her eyes, raises her eyebrows, shrugs, and makes a noncommittal sound. Oksana pops her eyes open. "Perhaps if there is someone here to distract me," she says slyly, "I will not do this terrible thing."

"I'm not going to stay here, Oksana. And I'm not going to fuck you either."

Oksana observes her for a beat, then rolls over and springs off the bed. Then she turns around to face Eve dramatically. "I am going to make some sausages! Would you like one?"

"No. I'm going now."

Oksana pouts slightly, crosses her arms. "Fine then. Go."

Eve gets off the bed slowly and takes a few seconds to stretch her limbs out before walking towards Oksana, who is still blocking her way out. She's not sure if she'll be allowed to pass until the last moment, when Oksana not so graciously steps out of the way.

She can feel Oksana's eyes on her as she bends over to collect her coat and bag. When she begins to head to the door, Oksana is by her side, matching stride for stride. They walk in silence.

At the front door, they turn to one another, and for some reason it is suddenly awkward, like they are a couple at the end of their first date. The impression intensifies when she asks, "Will I see you again?"

Oksana smiles.

Eve clarifies, "Are you going to stay here?"

"You know where I live and I know where you live." She shrugs. "Seems only fair."

"Aren't you afraid that I might turn you in?"

Oksana smiles some more. "The fact that you came here alone tells me otherwise."

Eve reaches for the door, then drops her arm, and turns back to her. "But is it safe to stay here? What about The Twelve? Your handlers?"

Previous to Eve's departure from Russia, she had caught wind of a shooting in an abandoned building not far from the place of carnage in the streets. Somehow she knew the two incidents were connected. If Villanelle had killed her contact with The Twelve, it explained why she was so concerned about retrieving her hidden passport by any means necessary.

Her suspicions are confirmed when Oksana laughs and says, "As long as I do my job, they don't care who else I kill."

"You're an arrogant dick, you know that?"

"One of my greatest charms I've been told."

Eve rolls her eyes. "Are you ever serious?"

"Serious people frown too much." She traces the indent between Eve's eyes. "Ruin their beautiful skin."

Oksana's hand comes to rest on the side of her face, her thumb caresses her cheek. And for a second she thinks Oksana is going to lean in and kiss her. And for a second she almost wants her to. But the moment passes and Oksana drops her arm back to her side. She opens the door for Eve, and Eve finally steps through. She doesn't get very far before Oksana hails her again.

"Oh and Eve," Oksana is holding up the switchblade, waggling it.

When in the hell did she take it back? And did this mean she was aware of it the entire time?

Oksana smirks. "You really do need to find better hiding places."

Then the door closes and Eve just stands there stupidly for a few beats before turning down the hallway. When she reaches Madame Tattevin's door, it magically opens before she can knock. "So, how did it go?"

Eve looks back down the corridor to find Oksana's door is still closed. Eve reaches into her purse and writes down an address on a scrap of paper. This she hands to the old woman. It's the address to the hotel she was planning on staying at after snooping around Oksana's place. She had been looking forward to finally getting some decent shut eye, but it seemed that plans had changed once again.

"Go here. Right now."

The woman looks confused. "I don't understand."

"She's having some visitors," explains Eve. "They appreciate discretion." She taps the paper. "Stay there for at least two nights."

Hopefully by then Villanelle's casual murderous whimsy will have passed. Eve's not even sure Villanelle meant it, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"It's all covered by the organization," she adds, when the woman seems hesitant.

"I will pack a bag right away," says Madame Tattevin, heading back inside.

It seems to take forever for the woman to return. Eve eyes Oksana's door with increasing alarm, but all she hears is the faint sounds of what seems to be a national anthem of some sort.

 _Goddammit_ _, I should've just killed her when I had the chance!_

She promises herself that next time she won't hesitate.

The Madame returns and Eve takes her bag with one hand and offers her other arm for support, but also to speed the woman up. Even still, at this rate it will take a century to get all the way down.

They're about eight steps from freedom when there's a loud "Boo!" from right behind, scaring the daylights out of both of them. If Eve hadn't been holding on to the railing, they probably both would've fallen.

"Asshole!" yells the old woman, a hand over her chest.

By the time Eve gets her bearings again and turns around, Villanelle is long gone, but her echoing, disembodied laughter follows them the rest of the way down, and haunts Eve's dreams for many days to come.


	3. Eve Vs The Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more introspective, kind of sexy one for y'all this fine Sunday. Awoman!

Eve walks around Oksana's apartment, fingers caressing every surface she finds. She's somewhat surprised not to find a single spec of dust. The place is fairly large and spacious, and as far as she knows, Oksana lives alone and is often away. She's certain her own home isn't nearly as orderly, even with Niko to help out.

So who keeps the place so clean? The nice accommodating lady across the hall? That seemed unlikely given the woman's less than able bodied state. So who? Eve can't imagine Oksana would let a cleaning service into her inner sanctum. There were too many, for lack of a better word, _surprises_ tucked away in various unlocked drawers. The most interesting of which she's just come across.

It's a drawer full of guns, knives and other miscellaneous items of death and destruction. The sight both terrifies and excites her. How many people has Oksana killed with these weapons? How many more would she kill with them? Or were they all unused items waiting for first blood? These thoughts are tantalizing to her. She knows they shouldn't be. She knows she should feel ashamed for her morbid interests, but she doesn't. Not anymore. She's come so far, so fast. Unraveled to the point of no return. Why else would she be here in a serial killers apartment by her lonesome?

She picks up a switchblade and sits in front of the vanity mirror. She pops it open like it's a tube of lipstick. Eve moves it upwards as if to place it against her lips, but lands just above her collarbone instead. Exactly like Villanelle did in the kitchen. She wonders if it would really hurt as much as Villanelle said it would if she pushed it through slowly. Eve contemplates that for a few moments and then shakes out of it. She clicks the blade closed and stashes it in her pocket.

Then she continues her perusal of Oksana's things...and quickly comes across her own. The armoire right beside the drawer of goodies contains her stolen clothing. Eve reaches for her favourite green scarf on instinct, takes it into her hands and then promptly lets it fall through her fingertips like a wisp of smoke. That isn't her now. She's not the same frumpy, fashion challenged woman anymore. Or at least, she doesn't _want_ to be. So Eve takes a page out of Oksana's book and starts going through her fine selection of upscale dresses, brands of which she's never even heard of before and will likely never be able to afford. Especially now that she is out of a job. Again. Stealing some of Oksana's clothes is only fair compensation for all of the shit she has put her through. That Eve _let_ her put her through. Has flung herself head first into.

Ignoring the last shreds of her sanity, she picks up a red and white polka dot dress and goes to stand in front of the full length mirror beside the bed here. She holds it against her body from the neck down as she observes herself. It doesn't really suit her, like at all, but Eve's not trying to look like herself right now, so she starts undressing and slips into it easily. It doesn't quite fit right. Oksana's taller and fuller than she is and her tits just look kind of pathetic. Eve's sure Oksana's tits would look nicer in this dress. She's sure Oksana would turn heads every which way in a dress like this. She's sure Oksana could wear practically anything and still turn heads. Eve's a bit envious of an ability like that, but she wonders if it's a double edged sword, if it makes it more difficult to complete her kills.

Again, she starts fantasizing about what it would be like to live a day in the life of Villanelle. And how it would feel to extinguish the light out of someone's eyes. Again, she snaps out of it, and looks back in the armoire for some heels. She finds them but also a small collection of wigs. She plays with the ends of one. It's real hair. She would expect no less from Oksana. The woman clearly has expensive tastes.

Eve figures if she really wants to get into the same head space as Villanelle, she needs to complete the look. First she grabs a pair of cherry red two inch heels and puts them on. Then she scrunches her voluminous hair up as best she can and chooses the brown wig with bangs, which she has never in her life worn before. Eve fiddles with it for some time before she gets it to stay put. Just like the dress, it wasn't tailored to her head. When it's as good as it's going to get, she stands in front of the mirror again and promptly snorts.

She looks utterly ridiculous. Nothing is fitting properly, like she's a child playing dress up with her mothers things. Except the things belong to someone over a decade younger than herself. In any case, she totters over to the bed and the switchblade, her movements unsteady due to the ill fitting shoes. Blade in hand, she pops it open, and tosses it back in forth in front of the mirror, imagining herself to be taunting her latest terrified prey. She smirks at herself as she assumes Villanelle would, further unnerving them. She takes an experimental, short ranged stab, low into the gut. Then she raises the blade in an overarching motion and brings it down towards her mirrored chest.

"You should never do this," says the familiar amused voice from nearby.

Again, Eve is simultaneously terrified and excited by Oksana's arrival. She hadn't been expecting it, not really. But a small part had hoped. She had meant it before when she asked Oksana to go off with her. Just the two of them. To do what, she wasn't sure. But she had wanted it in the moment. And she thinks, maybe she still does.

Or maybe she'd rather see her dead right now.

Eve pushes down her embarrassment at being caught in such a state, and rather than turn to face her, she simply catches Oksana's eye through the mirror. As predicted, she's smirking. Arms crossed, leaning against the door frame and smirking. If she was surprised to find Eve here, dressed in her stuff, she had long since gotten past that emotion.

"What should I do?"

Something lights up in her eyes. Eve's not exactly sure what. But it's there all right. Not one content to simply explain with words, Oksana moves fluidly towards her, as if an invisible thread is keeping them tethered and bound to one another.

Unbidden, Eve thinks about whipping around at the last second and plunging the knife in.

She doesn't though. She stays perfectly still instead. Anticipating.

Eve feels goosebumps up her spine and all along her arms, when Oksana comes in close and presses herself against Eve's back. Her left arm wraps around Eve's waist, possessively, as if she is a thing to be claimed, or perhaps to prevent her from making any sudden movements. Probably both. Oksana's right arm comes up around her own, hand resting over top Eve's fist. With the heels on they are the same height, so Oksana has to place her head on Eve's shoulder in order to see what she is doing. It's oddly romantic in all of its fucked up glory.

"Like this," says Oksana, gently rearranging Eve's grip into a more elegant underhanded one. Her breath smells faintly of something sweet, something fried. "Always stab upwards," she whispers into her ear, her wide eyed gaze never leaving hers through the mirror. Oksana places the tip of the blade against the red and white fabric and Eve hopes it's not about to become much redder. Vaguely she wonders why she is simply allowing this to happen, why she isn't attempting to fight her. To do _something_. She tells herself that she is simply bidding her time, but she knows it's a lie. She had the chance before and she didn't take it.

"Aim here," continues Oksana as she leisurely drags the blade up from her navel and to just below her left breast. It shouldn't be a sensual move but it is, and Eve's blood is coursing faster now. "One solid thrust. It is the most effective way. And the least messy." Oksana's smirk returns. "If you care about that sort of thing."

For a moment Eve fantasizes about going on a kill with Villanelle, about learning all that there is to know about the art of murder straight from the source. She wonders if she'd perform well her first time. If Villanelle would be pleased. She wonders what would happen after the fact. If they'd come back to this very apartment and fall into that very bed and-

Oksana doesn't remove the blade from her chest as she takes another lingering sniff at Eve's neck. Again, Eve can't help but to let her eyes flutter closed. This time she even leans back a bit into her. This time Oksana's lips graze her skin. This time Eve doesn't want it to end.

Oksana pouts lamely. "You're not wearing it."

"I didn't have a chance to put it on before you arrived," she answers honestly, eyes connected through the mirror again. She knows she would've if she had been left to her own devices for longer. "I wasn't expecting you."

"In my own home?" quips Oksana. Before Eve can reply Oksana announces, "You should never cover up such amazing hair, Eve Polastri!"

For the first time she looks slightly offended. Like this is the greatest sin in their current predicament. Perhaps in Oksana's mind, it is.

The knife point is still pressed lightly against the fatal location.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asks her. For some reason she is almost thrilled at the prospect.

_Damn, I am really fucked up._

"For covering up your beautiful hair?" responds Oksana sweetly.

"No, I mean..." but she notices Oksana's faint smile and knows she is just having some fun.

Oksana steps back, taking the blade and wig with her, and Eve is almost upset at the loss of contact. She clicks the blade closed and carelessly tosses it onto the bed, as if beckoning Eve to make a futile lunge for it. And she knows it _is_ futile. No way she could move faster than Oksana in these too big heels, even battered and bruised as she is. It is subtle, but it is there. In the slight dip in her shoulders and back. Oksana is exhausted. Come to think of it, so is she.

Eve toes off the heels and unscrunchies her hair, fluffs it out fully, to the obvious delight of Oksana, and then moves past her into the living room. Oksana follows her out and watches as Eve plops herself down on the sofa gracelessly, immediately closing her eyes.

"Would you like something to drink? To eat?" asks Oksana graciously.

"No. I just want to sleep. Forever." She cocks one eye open. "But not like _that_."

Oksana closes her mouth and grins. Then she plops down beside her on the couch, a slight sound of relief emanating from her.

"Now what?" she says, eyes closed again.

"Now we sleep," says Oksana as if it were obvious. And well, duh, it is. Except, no it isn't. Why is Oksana out here when she has a perfectly good bed to use?

She says as much aloud.

"I will feel you move," is the reply. And duh, just because Oksana isn't currently trying to murder her, doesn't mean that Eve herself won't try something. She is after all supposed to be getting some good old fashioned revenge right about now. But she is too tired.

Maybe in a few hours she'll feel more equal to the task.

Or maybe not.

 


	4. Eve Vs The Bull (of ice cream)

She has complete control over the situation. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself. Villanelle is unarmed and Eve's got a gun. And the safety is off. She double checked. All she has to do is apply a little bit of pressure and this nightmare can finally be over.

The sick part of her brain, the one like a tumour growing larger and stronger everyday wonders if this is what she wants. Is this the outcome she strives for? Or has it altered course recently? Does she perhaps want something else from Oksana first? Something...more? Doesn't she want what Anna had? If she shoots Oksana now, she'll never get to have that. She should wait a little bit and _then_ do it. It was only logical.

Oksana watches her complacently, almost as if she is already bored with this lacklustre stand off. Or well, stand-sit off. Eve wonders if perhaps the reason Oksana is so unbothered by the situation is because she knows something Eve doesn't...like the gun is defective. No one is _completely_ fearless. Surely, there must be _something_ that scares her, just a little bit?

She gets a crazy notion in her head and she does something really stupid. Well, even stupider than coming here in the first place. Eve takes the gun, and with shaking hands, points the barrel under her _own_ chin, just as Oksana herself did in the forest.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting to happen. She hoped for some kind of reaction. But not _that_ much of a reaction.

“What are you _doing_?!” demands Oksana, hopping to her feet. “Stop that!”

Eve can see she is absolutely enraged now. If she is also afraid, it is consumed by the anger radiating off of her in waves. Eve can already feel how much she's fucked up and is entering her typical panic mode, albeit, internally.

_Shit, shit, shit!_

“I said stop that!” screams Oksana, practically stomping in place, like a bull about to charge, but unsure of the consequences.

“Stop yelling at me!” yells Eve, somewhat hysterically, palms sweaty.

“Put it down then!”

Her grip is getting more uncertain by the second, her breathing more erratic. “I can't! You're scaring me!”

“ _I'_ _m_ scaring _you_?!” shrieks Oksana incredulously, eyes half crazed.

“Yes! ”

Oksana takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Put it down, _please_ ,” she says in a normal volume, obviously forced.

Eve starts to but then stops and eyes her warily. There is still a certain glint in Villanelle's eye that is continuing to unnerve her. Besides which, her body language is far from calm. She's still on the verge of charging.

“What's going to happen when I do?”

Oksana swears in another language. “For the last time, Eve, put it down! Or I swear I will kill you right here and now!”

Hardly in her right mind, the threat actually seems like a valid concern, as if she isn't the one currently in control of her own fate. “Okay, okay! I'll put it down! I'm putting it down! Just stop screaming at me!”

“Fine! I'll stop screaming at you!” screams Oksana, throwing her hands up. “Now drop it!”

Her little experiment at an end, Eve hesitantly lowers the deadly weapon, fully intending to set its sights back on Oksana...but she never gets the chance. The instant the barrel clears her chin, Villanelle is upon her, far faster than Eve would've believed possible.

Villanelle viciously wrenches the gun out of her grasp and throws it past her shoulder, all the way across the length of the apartment. It's thrown with such force into the kitchen cabinets, it's a wonder it doesn't go off as violently as Villanelle currently is. Eve is still too shocked to register the pain in her wrist, or the dizzying sensation now taking hold as Villanelle literally chokes the life out of her with both hands. She's pressed against the wall, clawing at her face, all rational thought gone.

Then she remembers the knife, the switchblade currently in her possession and she frantically fumbles for it, fingers feeling clumsier and clumsier with each passing second, desperate to grab hold. Villanelle is so intent on choking her out that she doesn't seem to notice this maneuver. So Eve goes for it with the last of her strength, pulling the blade out of her pocket and plunging it into Villanelle in one motion.

Except, she forgot to flip the switch, so all she does is ram the blunt end of the handle into Villanelle's ribs. Villanelle grunts but doesn't let go, and the last of Eve's vision finally blacks out.

For whatever reason, she wakes up. In bed. Not her bed. Oksana's. She can't fathom why she isn't dead, but that's the least of her concerns right now. Pain surges through her neck first as she takes in a too deep breath of air, then her skull and wrist, then seemingly her whole body. She feels kind of like she fell asleep on both arms again, like she's been trampled by wild horses. And in a way, she was.

Oksana stirs by her side, also on the bed. She moves to her knees, alert and wide eyed, looming, as if waiting for Eve to attempt to retaliate. For a second she even looks concerned.

Then she is all business again.

“That was very foolish, Eve. Why did you do that?”

“Why,” she croaks, tries to swallow but it hurts too much. “Why am I still alive?”

Oksana glares at her, clearly annoyed by the question. “Why did you do that?!”

“Why did _you_?!” fires back Eve with as much gusto as she can manage. Which is to say, not much.

Oksana huffs, crosses her arms. “ _I_ knew what I was doing! _You_ would have blown your own brains out by accident!” She mutters something else under her breath. Eve thinks it's Russian. Probably quite rude.

She can't help it. She has to ask. “And that would have bothered you?”

“Of course,” replies Oksana, apparently genuine.

She almost seems offended by the question. And really, judging by Villanelle's extreme reaction, Eve hardly has cause for surprise. Eve is almost flattered that she can illicit that much of a response out of Oksana. She thinks that probably there aren't too many people who could. She thinks, maybe she _is_ special to Oksana after all. Maybe there _is_ something here and it's not all in her messed up head. Maybe they _could_ actually be something...more.

But as usual Oksana is incapable of being serious.

There's a slight crinkle around the eyes and then, “You would have ruined your beautiful hair.”

She blinks and does her best to keep her disappointment at bay. “Is that all you care about? My hair?”

Oksana smiles slightly now, for the first time since Eve first pointed a gun at her. “Of course.”

Eve rolls her eyes. “You're an asshole, Oksana.”

“So you keep saying,” replies Oksana. “And yet, you are here. Why are you here, Eve Polastri?”

“To kill you,” she says candidly. “I thought that was obvious.”

Oksana laughs. “A murderer does not trash the home of someone they have yet to murder. You _wanted_ me to know that you were here. If you had really wanted me dead you would not have loudly warned me of your presence ahead of time.”

And Eve didn't have a good response to that, because damn her, she was right.

Predictably, Oksana takes the victory smugly and smirks down at her. “Would you like something to drink? Ice for your wrist and neck? Paracetamol?”

Again, she is taken off guard, this time at the sudden hospitality. A kind of role reversal of Oksana's previous break in. As usual, Eve is the one at a disadvantage. One of these days she will get a true upper hand on Villanelle, and when she does, well she isn't sure what will happen, but it won't be good.

“Yes,” she replies, and it's unspoken that she means yes to all queries.

Oksana smiles some more and then vanishes. Eve has half a mind to push herself up and look for a weapon. But even a cursory glance around the room tells her that Oksana hasn't been idle while she was out. Every surface within reach has been cleared off. She can even see that the weapon drawer has been cleaned out, the contents stored under the floorboards now for all she knows. In any case, the effort just to raise her head off the pillow that much was alarmingly taxing. Oksana literally drained the life force out of her, at least, temporarily.

Oksana traipses back into the room, still smiling, and comes to stand beside her. She helps her into a sitting position and then gingerly places the ice wrapped in a cloth onto Eve's mangled wrist, and grimaces slightly when Eve hisses at the contact. Oksana hesitates a moment before handing over the glass of water to her uninjured hand. She does not let go.

“Do not throw that at me,” says Oksana. “I will be very cross if you do.”

“I won't,” she tries to assure, knowing she would probably miss even if she did. After all, she was kicked off her softball team. In middle school. When they were short players.

Oksana stares her down for another moment and then lets her have it. Then she pops the pills directly into Eve's mouth without warning. “Pace yourself. Small sips to start.”

Annoyed at having Oksana's fingers in her mouth, Eve completely disregards her and takes a giant gulp. She spits up half of the water, and the pills, her throat protesting, her skull exploding in pain.

“You never listen to me,” complains Oksana, crossing her arms again. “Do you take pleasure in disobeying me, Eve?”

“Of course,” she responds eventually after she stops choking.

Oksana glowers and sulks out of the room like a spoiled child.

Her body exhausted, Eve falls in and out of an uneasy slumber, never really comfortable enough to completely let her guard down. Never mind the fact that Villanelle could've killed her several times over by now...

It seems to be hours later before Oksana returns, this time with a tray of food. Or well, ice cream. Her hair is down and she seems to be freshly bathed. Her clothes have also changed. She's now wearing a poofy pink dress. It's...odd, but somehow suits her, like she's embodying the big hair she finds so attractive on others. On herself.

“You must be hungry,” is all she says, depositing what appears to be a bowl of plain vanilla before her.

Eve is surprised by the choice. She would've thought Oksana liked much more flamboyant flavours, to fit her personality. And perhaps she does. Perhaps she has only chosen such an ordinary flavour because she's seen Eve's boring home and figures she's not very adventurous food wise.

She doesn't thank her, but the slight sigh of relief that escapes her lips upon the first bite is enough to have Oksana pleased with herself once more. Heaven forbid.

When Eve is nearly done, Oksana looks over at her from across the room and tentatively broaches her next topic. “Are you feeling better now, Eve?”

Now that the pain medication has kicked in, yes. She just nods.

Oksana smiles wider, whatever trace of guilt perceived gone in a flash. “Then would you like to watch a movie with me?”

Eve isn't sure if she'll ever fully understand this woman, or her trains of thought, but she knows she will never stop trying. Not until one or both of them are dead.

“Sure.” Because what the hell. They've already had dinner together. Might as well make it a complete date night.

Oksana almost appears giddy at the prospect. “I have a very good one in mind! I think you will like it a lot! It's called D.E.B.S!”

She has never heard of this movie in her life. She wonders if it's going to be violent. Mostly though, she's just curious about Oksana's taste in films.

“Sounds great.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the screaming bit last minute. Hope it actually works. You'll let me know I guess lol


	5. Eve Vs Herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuz I'm such a saint, here have the last one early.

From the moment she picks up the gun as well, she knows what she's going to do. She's going to go in trembling and as menacing as Villanelle might expect her to be, and then she's going to feign her ability to harm. She's going to sit on the edge of the bed, a tantalizing prospect, and tell Villanelle things she might wish to hear, things that were also true, so she would believe it. Then she's going to lay down and lament how tired she is. Again, agonizingly true. She's going to wait for Villanelle to join her, as she knows she will. Villanelle won't be able to resist it, not after her confession. Then, when everything is right, and everything is ready, when Villanelle is at her most vulnerable, she is going to strike, like a snake springing its trap. She's going to sink her metaphorical teeth into her, surprising her, possibly surprising herself, and then she's going to watch her bleed out, watch the light leave her eyes just the way that they left Bills'.

After this brilliant plan of hers has been executed, well, she isn't quite sure. She supposes she will feel a measure of relief that it's finally over. She supposes she will feel guilt and regret over what she's done. She supposes she might even find that she likes it. She's always had a bit of a dark side, even as a child, but she's sure killing this one evil person won't awaken anything evil within herself. She's not sure why she believes this, other than she _has_ to. If she believes she will turn into the next Villanelle by succumbing to her urges, she will not be able to go through with it. And Bill deserves better than that. They all do.

So she takes the knife and presses the tip into Villanelle's abdomen, and still, Villanelle doesn't believe she will do it. She's still trusting in her own superior ability to read people, to read situations. Villanelle has survived all this time because she's always been the one in control, even when she wasn't. She's always been the one manipulating the other chess pieces, saying just the right things at just the right times. Rarely meaning any of her sweet talk. Gleefully leading everyone to their own demises.

But she's reading Eve wrong. Or rather, she's reading her right, but for the wrong reasons. Eve means everything she says and does. Part of her _does_ want Villanelle. Part of Eve wants her _so_ much, more than she will ever admit to herself. The other part of Eve wants to see her dead, rotting in a ditch somewhere, crows pecking at her eyes. Villanelle is paying attention to the wrong cues right now. She's made the mistake of seeing what she wants to see. What she expects to see. What she hopes to see.

And this mistake will be her undoing.

Villanelle is still smirking at her when she plunges the knife in, all the way to the hilt. The look of pure shock on Villanelle's face is beyond gratifying. She's finally pulled one over on her. For the first and last time.

Villanelle lays on her back, eyes wide, hands clasped around the handle of the knife, around the blossoming stain across her shirt.

"I really liked you," she whimpers. And then she grimaces, "It hurts," like a little child.

And for a split second Eve is taken aback and rethinking what she's doing. Then she refocuses and re-grips the end of the handle and prepares to finish this.

"Don't pull it out!" screams Oksana, now in a state of panic, not dissimilar to her own when Villanelle paid her a surprise visit.

Eve wonders how many people she has watched in just such a state, begging for their lives. All she needs to do is yank once, just once and Villanelle will bleed out. She goes to do it again, and again she falters. This is what she wants, isn't it? So why is she hesitating?

Because it isn't what she wants. Not completely. And now that she's stabbed her, now that she's seen the turmoil it's causing, she finds that the other part of her wishes she could hit the reset button. But she can't. All she can do is panic right along with Oksana.

She lets go of the knife still firmly in place and scrambles off the bed. "Stay right there! I'm gonna fix this!" she promises as she sprints over broken glass and into the kitchen to grab a towel, or alcohol, or _something_. She riffles through drawers and cupboards, grabbing things at random and then heads back into the hallway.

Eve isn't sure what she expects when she rounds the corner, but it isn't this.

Villanelle has not listened to her, and is currently awkwardly crawling through all of the broken glass towards her, like some sort of demented slug, leaving a narrow trail of slick blood behind her instead of slime. She's mostly propelling herself along with her left arm and Eve has a horrible sinking feeling that she's hit her spine, paralyzing her. It would be easy to finish what she started, to stomp the miserable creature out of existence, but Eve can't bring herself to do it anymore. The impulse has passed.

"What are you doing?!" she laments, and drops the things she has collected. "You're hurting yourself more!"

She wonders just how rational Oksana's thoughts are at this point in time. She rushes to her side and Villanelle pulls the gun on her, seemingly out of thin air. Apparently still rational enough to pull her own surprise attack. Eve freezes in her tracks, on the verge of touching her.

"Let me help you," pleads Eve as calmly as she can manage. She thinks she does a damn fine job considering Villanelle can easily blow her brains out right now. "I can fix this," she reiterates, hoping it's actually true.

Oksana groans in pain and nods, tossing aside the gun. Eve lifts her to her now unsteady feet and begins to half lead, half carry her back towards the bed. Oksana stops her.

"Not there," she grunts. "The bathroom. I have a kit."

And of course she does. Someone in Villanelle's line of work would have some kind of first aid kit. Even in her beleaguered state, Villanelle is still thinking more clearly than she is. Eve feels a faint twinge of embarrassment for losing her shit so quickly, especially considering how stoic she thought she'd be.

The journey to the bathroom seems to take forever, every step taxing Oksana just that little bit more. They're both breathing heavily by the time they reach their destination. Mostly from over excitement on her part. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she would be trying to save Villanelle's life.

She helps Oksana to the cold tiled floor and opens up the medicine cabinet. She isn't seeing anything particularly helpful here though.

"Underneath," says Oksana, pointing, keeping one hand clutched around the dagger. Despite this, blood is still oozing around the edges, dripping over her fingertips, staining her shirt through. For a moment Eve's fascinated by the sight and even half reaches out to touch it.

Then she comes to her senses and looks under the sink to find an unmarked, compact suitcase. She drags it out, lays it flat, and clicks open the clasps. Inside is an impressive array of supplies, all neatly organized. Professional. She's feeling more and more confident by the minute that she can actually save her.

She holds up the scissors and says awkwardly, "I'm gonna need to, uh, cut your shirt off now."

Oksana seems more bewildered than amused by her sudden reticence. "It is already ruined now, Eve."

And part of her thinks maybe Oksana means more than just the shirt. She hopes she is wrong though. She doesn't want this thing she has with Oksana to be over yet. Now more than ever, she wants something... _more._

Eve gets over herself, grabs the bottom edge and starts cutting up, off centre, so as to bypass the major obstacle in the middle, a damn metaphor for their damn relationship. The scissors are amazingly sharp, she's practically slicing through the fabric now, as if it were nothing more than wrapping paper.

So in practically no time at all, she reaches the top and parts the bloodied mess away from the hilt of the dagger, the better to see the carnage she has wrecked. It's definitely not pretty, but it's a damn sight better than it would've been had she pulled it out. And she could still do it. She could still just reach forward and pull the plug on Villanelle's cursed life force, run away, lock her in here until it was done...

A slight motion catches her attention and she glances upwards, and inadvertently finds her gaze set on Oksana's tits. Or well, her bra. It's nothing sexy like she might've imagined once or twice, or a dozen times, just a regular old bra. Even plainer than her own. Then again, Villanelle had just been in prison so it was possible that this was the standard model from there and not her typical fare. Eve hadn't snooped quite _that_ thoroughly before Villanelle's arrival.

"You would think you've never seen tits before the way you are staring."

Eve flushes but forces herself to look up into Oksana's eyes. She's amused once more. And something else. If Eve didn't know any better, she would think Oksana was looking a little bit aroused. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Then again, Oksana wasn't exactly normal. For all she knew, blood play was a welcome addition to the bedroom.

"They're lovely," she says stupidly, mortifyingly before she can stop herself. She isn't sure what she had _meant_ to say, but it wasn't _that_.

And now it is unmistakable. Oksana is definitely aroused. Her pupils have just dilated further. Eve has an insane thought that Oksana will suddenly start masturbating right then and there in front of her while she continues to slowly bleed out.

Eve clears her throat and busies herself with the task at hand, riffling through the contents of the kit absentmindedly. "So, uh, how do you want to do this?"

"You have no idea what you are doing, do you, Eve?" says Oksana, still amused.

"I've never performed surgery on someone before, no." She catches her eye. "We should really go to the-"

"No hospitals!" says Oksana. "They are all full of incompetent people."

But the way she immediately dismisses the possibility makes Eve wonder if Oksana has a bad history there, like perhaps she has found herself in the prison hospital one too many times and has no desire to ever go back to one even if her life is at stake and at the mercy of the person who made it that way.

"And _I'm_ not?" she asks incredulously.

"Not with my guidance, you are not. You are lucky that you chose the dagger without poison, otherwise I would be unconscious by now."

"More like, _you're_ lucky."

"Yes, I feel very lucky right now, Eve Polastri."

And she says it sarcastically, but also with a ring of truth. She was still alive, wasn't she?

Eve takes a deep breath in order to prepare herself for the seemingly impossible task at hand. "Tell me what to do, Oksana."

So she does, and it's rocky there for a couple of moments, but somehow Eve manages to patch her up in the bathtub, crude stitches and all. After awhile it was almost easy. She wonders if she has ever been a surgeon in a previous life.

Eve secures the last of the bandages in place and then wipes her now sweaty forehead with the back of her bloodied gloves. These she yanks off and tosses to the floor. A place she wouldn't mind visiting right about now. If she thought she was exhausted before, now she is an utter wreck. The stress of having Oksana's fate squarely in her hands was worse even than that of her own wedding.

Oksana herself is squarely on her back, half asleep on the floor and seems to be fairing about as well as her. Though Eve had given her a shot for the pain (and to combat infection) her forehead is also feverish. In fact, her entire torso is covered in a sheen of sweat. If there's internal bleeding, Oksana is done for. Eve doesn't want to think about that possibility too much.

Oksana catches her looking again, because of _course_ , and smirks.

"We should get you back to the bed before you completely pass out," says Eve to cover up her embarrassment yet again. "I won't be able to move you all the way there by myself."

"No," says Oksana flatly. "I will stay here. The tiles are nice and cool." She smiles, eyes nearly glazed over with sleep, or drugs, or both. Lazily, she pats the spot beside her. "You're welcome to join me."

Not needing further encouragement, she lowers herself beside Oksana, lying on her side so as to face her. It's already not very comfortable, but she has no intention of leaving any time soon. A small part of her is wary and wonders if Oksana is now attempting to lull her into a false sense of security. If she will spring her own trap soon and snap Eve's neck before she even knows what is happening.

Surely, Oksana can't have forgiven her already?

Guilt gnaws at her for few seconds. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." She sounds a bit broken and it feels a bit like she's been stabbed herself.

"Yes, I am," says Eve adamantly. She thinks about reaching out and stroking Oksana's arm and holding her hand but then thinks better of it. "I thought I wanted you dead, but I don't."

Oksana is silent for a long time and Eve thinks maybe she is asleep. "What _do_ you want?"

Eve had asked her the very same question. "I don't know."

It's a lie, they both know it, but for whatever reason Oksana doesn't challenge it. "I'm going to go to sleep now." She places her hands over her tits as she eyes Eve. "No funny business."

Eve rolls her eyes to which Oksana grins sleepily. "That goes double for you."

"You don't have to worry about me, Eve. I did promise."

And really, did that even still remotely count after what she did?

" _I'm_ the one who should be worried," continues Oksana.

And okay, fine. "I promise I won't try to kill you again, Oksana. But only if you behave yourself."

Oksana's only response this time was a faint scoff, as if to say, fat chance of that ever happening.

Eve thinks she is finally out but then, "You'll stay?"

Oksana is looking at her again in that same yearning way she did before Eve betrayed her.

Half of her _had_ been planning to bolt the moment Oksana conked out. "If you want me to."

"I do."

"Then, yes, I'll stay."

Oksana smiles as her head lolls to the side, and there's a brief moment of panic where Eve thinks she's just died. But her chest continues to rise and fall, and somehow despite all of the fucked up shit that has happened in the last hour, Eve feels like maybe everything might actually be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice how I glossed over the improbable surgery, right? But also, if Eve performed it in the bathtub that means that she was literally straddling Oksana the whole time lmao
> 
> That's it for me for now. I might write something else for this fandom, I might not. Depends how much y'all beg me lol


	6. Villanelle Vs The Villains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd add to this one but here ya go

“Would you stay for a bit?”

“Sure,” says Eve, also turning on her side to face her.

Oksana reaches out a hand to trace the outline of her face, ecstatic at the prospect of finally being able to touch Eve without any knife play.

“I've never done anything like this before,” admits Eve shyly.

Oksana completely expected this turn of events so she's quick with her reply. “It's okay. I know what I'm doing,” she says eagerly, and moves in closer. Before she reaches her destination, a.k.a. Eve's sexy lips, a sharp point hits her belly. She looks down and nearly groans. Eve and her stupid knives. She looks back up to smile in suppressed rage. “Wow. That's rude.”

“Yeah,” says Eve with a distinct edge to her voice, not unlike the blade.

There's pounding on the door outside. Not _her_ door, but somewhere further away. Like across the hall. No one visits the old bag though, not even solicitors. That could only mean one thing.

The Twelve had come for her like she expected.

What she _hadn't_ expected was her current predicament.

She hears another sound shortly after, that of a clattering thump. Reminiscent of Sebastian's body hitting the floor. She might have felt bad for the old biddy if she hadn't been spying on her for years. For all Oksana knew, The Twelve only came running after the bitch informed them she was here. _Serves her r_ _ight_.

Oksana's not eager to join her. Especially not after Eve's confession.

Eve seems to be oblivious to the goings on just outside though, she is so focused on Oksana, on this moment of would-be revenge, that all is white noise.

Oksana has a startling moment of clarity, in which she can see in Eve's eyes that she _will_ do this. She _will_ plunge the knife into her stomach. She _will_ do her best to kill her. How ironic would it be to be taken down by _Eve_ of all people with highly trained assassins just outside?

Someone pounds on her door. Of course she's not going to fall for that now. How stupid did they think she was?

Swiftly, she grabs Eve's knife hand and jerks it outwards and away from her body. Eve seems taken aback by this, but even more so by Oksana kicking her off the bed. As Eve is falling out of the bed, Oksana rolls in the other direction, crouches down and scoops up the gun. She dashes to the wall here, in the small space between the radiator and the open door. This she pushes half closed and slides in behind. Besides keeping her briefly hidden, it affords her the use of the strategically placed vanity mirror to see into the bathroom across the hallway, as well as the incoming assassins. 

It's not the best place she could be, but it would have to do.

Her original plan had been to stake out her apartment until they arrived, scale her building like she did in Italy, and stealth kill them one by one with her bare hands, or whatever was _on_ hand, on account of having no weapons after returning from Moscow. She did like to improvise. Made things more interesting.

But E ve ruined that fun plan when she stuck her sexy nose where it didn't belong.

Ideally, instead of sitting here like a dumb duck, mere feet from the front door, she would go outside onto the ledge, let them think she's not here at all, and then shoot them all in the backs.

But Eve is here and Eve is very stupid.

If Oksana leaves her alone she will likely go running out and screaming like a banshee, instantly shot dead. No, Oksana can't turn her back on Eve for one second. Not until this is dealt with. And perhaps not even then.

Speaking of Eve, she's peering over at her from the top of the far side of the bed, confusion written all across her face. She starts to get up and Oksana glares at her and angrily jabs a finger down.

“What's hap-”

Oksana puts the same finger to her lips and a second later the front door gets kicked down, splintered wood flying everywhere. There's three of them, all armed, all moving inside and sweeping the area as quickly as possible. No point in dilly-dallying after all the ruckus they've made. If they were trying to keep this thing quiet, they were doing a piss poor job. Oksana's almost insulted that The Twelve keep sending amateurs to kill her.

Quantity was never better than quality. Not even in such fun family sizes as Inga.

One of them heads into the bathroom, one goes directly down the main corridor, and the third one, the last one to enter, turns towards the bedroom. Ironically, they're dressed as paramedics. Somehow she knew they _did_ intend to do harm. That was fine. So did she.

There's many ways to deal with the female assassin that's just entered the room.

Option 1: Shoot her point blank. The con to this was of course that her weapon wasn't a silenced one and the other two would immediately know her location and converge on her at once. If Eve weren't here, she might have risked it.

Option 2: Snap her neck. It's one of her least favourite things to do – she can't look them in the eyes as they die – but then there will be the sound of a body, or at least a gun, dropping. With luck, she _might_ be able to get her to land on the bed silently, but it's still too risky, especially with Eve right there and the man in the corridor behind her.

Option 3: Put her in a sleeper hold. Knock her out now and finish her off later. The con to this one was that it could take awhile and-

Her decision is made for her when the woman appears to have spotted Eve and starts to take aim.

Oksana sticks her gun in her pants and expertly grabs her from behind. One arm stays firmly locked around her neck, the other keeps the weapon at bay down by her side. As Oksana is struggling to quietly subdue the unusually resilient woman, there's crunching glass just behind her, and she knows the man is going to see them in the reflection momentarily.

Eve seems to be realizing her dilemma too, because she appears to be on the verge of tossing the knife in his direction, like she thinks she's some sort of Wonder Woman, and not an absolute shit throw, as demonstrated in the cafe with embarrassing acuteness. More likely Eve will somehow hit _her_ instead, thereby ensuring her own demise.

Oksana aggressively shakes her head in order to grab Eve's attention and mouths “No!” to stop that nonsense. Cowed, Eve once again retreats back behind the unfortunately low risen bed. She can still see the top of Eve's amazing hair, which Oksana supposes is what tipped off the assassin in the first place.

She's not going to be able to get this bitch to go down in time and sure enough the male assassin sees them and comes into the room. She turns to face him right as he does and the idiot man tries to hit her anyway.

The woman in her arms is finally dead a moment later.

Perhaps he thought the bullets would travel through his comrades body. Or perhaps he thought his aim was better. Whatever his logic was, it doesn't work, and she remains unscathed...and able to use the female assassin's silenced weapon to drop him with two well placed shots to centre mass.

Of course, now _his_ body is clattering and making plenty of noise, and there's still one more assassin to deal with.

“Did you get her?” asks another woman in Russian.

Oksana thinks she's just exited the bathroom and is now entering the kitchen area from the far side.

She has two choices now. Stay quiet and wait for her to come investigate, or say something.

But she's been silent long enough and she's got the upper hand now, or at least, equal footing. Besides, the final woman would have to be an utter moron to come in here after hearing the unmistakable sounds of a body dropping and no response from either co-worker.

“Depends which _her_ you mean,” responds Oksana back in English.

The final assassin takes a moment to get her meaning. “You're going to _pay_ for that, Oksana.”

There was great anger in her voice, as if she wasn't just pissed about losing a friend.

“Why?” she taunts. “Was she your _girlfriend_?”

Oksana decides to side-step just a teensy bit into the wide bedroom threshold that led into the main component of the apartment. She makes direct eyes on the other assassin for the first time. As expected, she's in the kitchen area, body mostly obscured by the refrigerator and its wide open door...and she's clearly furious.

Oksana lifts up the dead woman's hand and waves it at the live one across the no-man's land of broken glass.

“It was very rude of you to let me die like that!” she says in a high-pitched voice. “I'll never forgive you! I'm going to haunt you and-”

“And _I'm_ going to rip your _tongue_ out of your head, you _bitch_!”

Oksana ducks behind the corpse of her girlfriend a split second before her own head would have been blown off.

Apparently this one actually knew how to aim. Scarily well. Even while angry. As Konstantin would say, “That is not so good.”

She moves fully back into the cover of the bedroom and unceremoniously drops the now literal dead weight of a woman. She's half sprawled over the dead guy, like they were in a lover's embrace. If she were free to do so, she might have rearranged them into a bit more of a rude position. She did after all, have an artistic flare.

Now what?

If she goes out there at all, she's dead. If she fires blindly, she'll at best waste all of her bullets. At worst, lose a hand.

She could just throw something out there and hope that the other woman is distracted long enough for her to take a clean shot.

She could try to sneak around through the bathroom and get a different vantage point.

Or she could use their corpses to-

Wait a second, where's Eve?

Previously she had been able to see little tufts of black peeking above the bed cover. Now there's nothing. And come to think of it, she hasn't noticed the hair since she turned back around.

She assumes Eve's rudely left her to fend for herself, which honestly was probably for the best, but then she catches a glimpse of Eve's reflection in the vanity, and she's crawling towards the bathroom, knife in her mouth, like she thinks she's fucking Rambo.

And even though Oksana's pretty sure Eve _could_ stab the assassin to death, she's also more sure that Eve will instead get _herself_ killed. Especially because Oksana's just taken another peek and the assassin is now turned in the same direction.

“What do you say to a truce?” she calls to the assassin, making her refocus on her.

“Fuck you! I'm going to-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” says Oksana with an eye roll. “No one else has to die here today. You could just-”

There's a loud crash, like someone's gone and knocked over a bunch of her shit in the bathroom.

Oksana closes her eyes in consternation.

Eve really was doing her best to get her stupid sexy head blown off.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” demands the assassin. “Is there someone else here?”

“Yes,” says Oksana quickly, a bit desperate to keep the focus on her. “It's obviously the ghost of your girlfriend come to-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“You shouldn't mess with spirits. You should just _go_ right now before it's too late.”

She directs the second part to Eve. But she's not sure if the moron understands her meaning.

“Like _right_ this instant. Don't tempt fate. Like Adam and Eve.”

“What?” says the assassin in confusion this time. “What do _they_ have to do with ghosts?”

“Oh, you know, the holy spirit and all that nonsense.”

“I'm not a _moron_. I _know_ there's someone else here.” The assassin turns around again. “And whoever it is is going to die a slow painful death.”

Oksana's out of options. She takes her gun out of her waistband, doubles up her chances of hitting something, and enters no-man's land. 

“Hey!” she says, as the glass crunches underfoot.

The assassin was almost out of view, but then she whips around.

They fire at the same time.

Considering she's dealing with a literal sniper, she thinks she gets off pretty easy with only the one gut wound. Now she knows how Konstantin felt. It is not so good either.

The assassin takes a bullet to the shoulder. She had been aiming for her head. The second shot completely missed its mark and instead embedded itself into the refrigerator door.

She's not going to have another chance to fire again though, not before the sniper gets _her_ in the head.

A split second before the kill shot rings, there's a flash of black, and then the assassin is clutching at her back, trying to get at the knife in-between her shoulder blades.

Stupid Eve should've gone for the neck.

Whatever. This bitch was dead. Especially after Oksana unloads into her upper torso a half a dozen times in fury.

Eve is cowering after that noisy onslaught, but then she stands up and stares transfixed at the dead woman...and the knife she plunged into her back. Oksana wonders if she's imagining it was _her_ lying there instead in a growing pool of blood and what she might be feeling in  such a case.

She drops her guns to get Eve to focus on what's important, clutches at her stomach, and collapses onto the sofa over dramatically.

Eve rushes over to her side and starts squawking like a hysterical parrot. “Konstantin died from the same wound! We need to get you to a hospital!” She tugs on Oksana's arm. “Come on, get up! You've _got_ to get to a hospital!”

Oksana's response is to groan and chuckle almost simultaneously. “Konstantin's not _dead_ , Eve.”

“What are you talking about? Carolyn-”

“Is a lying bitch. You shouldn't trust anything that woman tells you.”

All of a sudden Eve's demeanor changes and she's far more calm and collected.

“What did she offer you in prison?”

Oksana's amused at how easily Eve's been distracted from the hospital agenda. “The real question is what _I_ offered her.”

Eve furrows her brow. “I don't understand...”

“Help me up,” she demands, to which Eve readily acquiesces, stumbling under her weight.

She doesn't actually _need_ Eve's help to stand.

Oksana shamelessly throws her arm around Eve's shoulders and draws her as close as possible while they make their way to the exit. She takes a couple of hearty whiffs of her amazing hair, makes sure Eve hears.

“Did you just _sniff_ me?” says Eve incredulously, whipping her head to the side so that their faces are ve ry close.

“Do I get a kiss for sacrificing myself and saving your life?” she asks pleasantly.

Surprisingly, Eve looks down like she's briefly considering it, but then she looks back up and says, “I came here to kill you, not kiss you.”

“Why not both?” she says with a measured look.

Again, Eve's gaze flits down for a fraction of a second and Oksana swears she even leans in a tiny amount, but then it's as if it never happened and her eyes are forward and not likely to be swayed away again. 

Oksana's disappointed response is to detour them into the bathroom.

“What are you _doing_?!” squawks Eve shrilly in her ear. “You need to get to a hospital!”

“What I _need_ to do is get my things.”

She's confused again. “What things?”

Still supported upright by Eve, Oksana unceremoniously knocks her wigs away – _s_ _orry Claude_ _tte_ \- and lifts up the loose board beneath.

Understandably, Eve gapes.

The entire space below is brimming with fat stacks of cash.

She never did trust the banks and The Twelve's ability to freeze accounts at a whim.

“Jesus Christ, Oksana, there must be-”

“Millions. Yes. There's a backpack in the closet,” she points into the hallway. “Fill it up with as much as you can,” she says, taking a seat on the edge of the tub, holding the wall for additional support. The blood loss is beginning to make her a bit woozy. “And be quick about it. We need to get out of here before the cops show. I'm not sure I can spin the,” she does air quotes, “it was a terrible accident story. I'm good, but not _that_ good.”

Eve grabs the bag and begins shoveling handfuls of money into it until it's practically bursting at the seams. There's still some left, but it was of little consequence now.

As they make their way down the stairs painfully slowly, in more than one way, she asks, “Were you serious before?”

“About what?”

“About going away with me?”

Eve swallows but then looks her straight in the eyes and Oksana knows the answer before it's been said. “Yes.”

“Good,” she says, heart fluttering in anticipation. “Because I'm going to need someone to help me spend all that money.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how I'll never end up writing a sex scene here in this moment, no matter how many scenarios I do. It's never happening lol
> 
> In the first version of this, Oksana tossed a fucking grenade into the kitchen lmao. That was a little too ridiculous, even for me. Then this went through like four rewrites...and I was getting seriously pissed off since it was supposed to just be a nice little interlude and break from my other fic...le sigh


End file.
